Sermon Acts 6:8-8:1
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Jan. 1, 2012
Each year our patron saint gets short shrift because his feast day falls on Dec. 26 and who is going to come to church the day after Christmas? It’s like having your birthday on Dec. 25. It gets lost in the bigger celebration. This year the Worship Committee decided to celebrate St. Stephen’s Day on Jan. 1, since today is a Sunday.
Stephen is our hero and a great one he is. We know a lot about him, since the Acts of the Apostles features him in its early chapters. He was one of the original seven chosen to be the first deacons. Their role was to relieve the apostles of the work of serving tables and caring for the widows. Stephen had abilities far beyond those tasks, for he was a preacher and a miracle worker so outstanding that he, like Jesus, threatened the power structure in Jerusalem, and, like Jesus, he was called before the Sanhedrin. There he preached the good news and confronted the Sanhedrin with the fact that they had manipulated Romans into killing the Son of God. This confrontation so inflamed the Sanhedrin that they took him outside and stoned him to death without a trial.
Stephen became the first martyr following in the steps of his Master. Then we saw something that was to be repeated many times in the early history of the Christian Community and memorialized with this saying. “The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christianity.” Following Stephen’s profession of faith and his lynching, a persecution against Christians broke out in Judaea, the first of many to come throughout the Roman Empire. As a result, many Christians left the Holy Land and scattered around the Mediterranean. They took their faith with them and began to convert both the Jews in those cities and most especially the Gentiles. When the persecutions came to those areas and other Christians were martyred the faith spread all the more, fed by the example of great faith shown in the martyrs.
A side story often hardly noticed in the account from Acts is the fact that a young Pharisee by the name of Saul stood by as Stephen was stoned. He did not actually participate but it says he approved.
This reminds us of another wise saying: “All that is required for evil to prevail is for good men and women to say and do nothing.”
Of course, following upon Stephen’s death young Saul became Paul, arguably the Apostle most responsible for the spread of Christianity throughout the empire. It took the appearance to him of Jesus on the road to Damascus and his being blinded before he got the message, however.
So what’s the message for us on this New Year’s Day, 2012? If you are in to New Year’s resolutions, even if you are not, let me suggest a resolution to witness your faith this year and every year. It’s harder to know how to do that, compared with Stephen’s time and the price you pay will likely not be a dear as his. I think we witness by doing the right thing, the honest thing, even when we get ridiculed for it. We witness by doing the loving thing, the caring thing, especially when we don’t get on TV for it. We witness by forgiving those who have offended us, as did Stephen, following the example of his Master, just before he was put to death.
It is one thing for people to remain quiet and not protest against evil. It is quite another thing for people to use the guise of Christianity to teach hatred against those with whom they disagree. It’s amazing to see people say I am a Christian or even naming their denomination and with that dubious justification, lashing out at others, advocating death, supporting war and the denial of basic rights guaranteed under our constitution.
We witness for Christ when we teach His message as found in the New Testament, whenever and wherever we can. It is really up to each one of us to decide what we believe his message is and not to let someone else, even one’s priest, determine what that is. So how about this for an expanded Every Year resolution: “To witness for Christ wherever and whenever I can and to listen to the New Testament in order to know what His message really is?
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Amazing Peace
Sermon: Lk 2:1-20, Christmas Eve, 2011
Each Christmas Eve after reading that beautiful passage from the Gospel of Luke, I feel inadequate to add anything to it by preaching a sermon. It seems to speak for itself and I fear I diminish its power by commenting on it. So, this year I present you with a Christmas poem instead of a sermon.
Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightening rattles the eves of our houses.
Floodwaters await in our avenues.
Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and gray and threatening.
We question ourselves. What have we done to so affront nature?
We interrogate and worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?
Into this climate of fear and apprehension Christmas enters.
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.
It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightening sleeps quietly in the corner.
Floodwaters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.
Hope is born again in the faces of children.
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth, brightening all things.
Even hate, which crouches breeding in dark corners.
In our joy we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness. The word is Peace.
It is loud now. Louder than the explosion of bombs.
We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.
We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon the good season to wait awhile with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill our world with your majesty.
We the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confusian,
Implore you stay awhile with us
So we may learn by your shimmering light
How to look beyond complexion and see community.
It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.
On this platform of peace we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues the coming of hope.
All the earth’s tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.
We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers.
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves,
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:
Peace, My Brother. Peace, My Sister. Peace, my Soul.
No, I am not the author of this poem. It was written by
Maya Angelou and delivered at the lighting of the national Christmas tree at the White House, Dec. 1, 2005.
These are my sentiments for you, however, for us all.
Peace, My brother. Peace, My Sister. Peace, My Soul.
Each Christmas Eve after reading that beautiful passage from the Gospel of Luke, I feel inadequate to add anything to it by preaching a sermon. It seems to speak for itself and I fear I diminish its power by commenting on it. So, this year I present you with a Christmas poem instead of a sermon.
Thunder rumbles in the mountain passes
And lightening rattles the eves of our houses.
Floodwaters await in our avenues.
Snow falls upon snow, falls upon snow to avalanche
Over unprotected villages.
The sky slips low and gray and threatening.
We question ourselves. What have we done to so affront nature?
We interrogate and worry God.
Are you there? Are you there really?
Does the covenant you made with us still hold?
Into this climate of fear and apprehension Christmas enters.
Streaming lights of joy, ringing bells of hope
And singing carols of forgiveness high up in the bright air.
The world is encouraged to come away from rancor,
Come the way of friendship.
It is the Glad Season.
Thunder ebbs to silence and lightening sleeps quietly in the corner.
Floodwaters recede into memory.
Snow becomes a yielding cushion to aid us
As we make our way to higher ground.
Hope is born again in the faces of children.
It rides on the shoulders of our aged as they walk into their sunsets.
Hope spreads around the earth, brightening all things.
Even hate, which crouches breeding in dark corners.
In our joy we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness. The word is Peace.
It is loud now. Louder than the explosion of bombs.
We tremble at the sound. We are thrilled by its presence.
It is what we have hungered for.
Not just the absence of war. But true Peace.
A harmony of spirit, a comfort of courtesies.
Security for our beloveds and their beloveds.
We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon the good season to wait awhile with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.
Come and fill our world with your majesty.
We the Jew and the Jainist, the Catholic and the Confusian,
Implore you stay awhile with us
So we may learn by your shimmering light
How to look beyond complexion and see community.
It is Christmas time, a halting of hate time.
On this platform of peace we can create a language
To translate ourselves to ourselves and to each other.
At this Holy Instant, we celebrate the Birth of Jesus Christ
Into the great religions of the world.
We jubilate the precious advent of trust.
We shout with glorious tongues the coming of hope.
All the earth’s tribes loosen their voices
To celebrate the promise of Peace.
We, Angels and Mortals, Believers and Nonbelievers.
Look heavenward and speak the word aloud.
Peace. We look at each other, then into ourselves,
And we say without shyness or apology or hesitation:
Peace, My Brother. Peace, My Sister. Peace, my Soul.
No, I am not the author of this poem. It was written by
Maya Angelou and delivered at the lighting of the national Christmas tree at the White House, Dec. 1, 2005.
These are my sentiments for you, however, for us all.
Peace, My brother. Peace, My Sister. Peace, My Soul.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thanks for the Tragedy
Isaiah 64:1-9
Sermon given at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Advent 1, 11-27-11
It is the first Sunday of Advent and we have our new Advent wreath to announce it, as well as the color purple on the altar, on my back and on the pulpit. For these four weeks we prepare ourselves for the coming of Christ at Christmas. It is the time in the church year when we put ourselves in the mindset of the Old Testament, those long centuries when the Jewish people were being prepared for the coming of the Messiah. We hear an echo from that period in today’s reading from the Prophet Isaiah:
From ages past no one has heard, nor ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for him.
I think it appropriate that we return to Rite I in our prayer book for these four weeks, because, with its emphasis on the commandments and its use of old English it is reminiscent of the Old Testament period. Rite one was kept in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer because it very closely resembles the Holy Communion service from the 1928 prayer book. And it is the special request of those attending Adult Sunday School, where we have been studying the BCP, its history and its culture. As I recall, the request by that group to use Rite I for Advent was near unanimous.
Having said all that, I must admit to a reluctance to start Advent with this the first Sunday of the new church year. For goodness sake, it isn’t even Dec. yet. I’m still back with Thanksgiving, our great American holiday, or is it a holyday? Even the advertising feeding frenzy of black Friday hasn’t blotted Thanksgiving out. So, with your forbearance I’m going to preach about thankfulness; I don’t think it is the least bit incompatible with a penitential season like Advent.
Remember the Bernie Madoff Ponzi scheme? Mr. Madoff constructed this elaborate financial pyramid, all built on a lie. Many people, lured by the unbelievably high return on their money, invested with him and lost their life savings because they believed his lie. Bernie, who bilked people out of billions of dollars, is now doing about a million years in prison. One of those he cheated, Kim Rosen, was wiped out financially. In their book entitled “The Grateful Heart” Wilkie and Noreen Au tell Kim’s amazing story of gratitude for the tragedy. These are her words:
“When I lost my life savings I found myself opened to life’s simple wonders in a way I had never experienced before. It is not conditional, not based on having something, money or security or health, as opposed to not having it.”
In other word, she is saying, I used to think I would be happy if I had so much money put away, was totally secure and had perfect health. Now I realize my happiness was and is not dependent on those things. I have found happiness in life’s simple wonders. She developed an attitude of gratitude.
I think most of us think of gratitude in the context of being thankful for something concrete we have been given. The scriptures, in fact, sometimes encourage that view. When Jesus healed people many of them, but not all, expressed gratitude for the return to health. That was something concrete. Others, though, went further. They expressed gratitude for his acceptance of them, His gift of salvation to them. Often these were people who society was not likely to accept. There was Zacchaeus, the short little tax collector up in the tree. Jesus spotted him and told him he wanted to dine in his home that night. Zacchaeus was so excited he fell out of the tree and so grateful he said he would give half his possessions to the poor and anyone he had defrauded he would give it back to them four times over. Obviously, he hadn’t involved himself in a Ponzi scheme like Madoff or he wouldn’t have had the funds to do that.
Then there was the Samaritan woman at the well with the shady past. Jesus let her know He knew of the many men in her life, but accepted her by speaking to her and asking for a drink. She became so enthused by this gift of salvation that she announced to all who would listen that she had met the Messiah.
These are impressive stories but they don’t quite show the spiritual depth of Kim Rosen who appreciated what the loss of her investments did for her. The closest I can come from biblical stories is the good thief on the cross next to Jesus. He is the only one that Jesus said anything like what he heard: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” Why did he get that kind of response? Because he asked for forgiveness. I wonder if he had time to appreciate that this situation would not have occurred if he had not been sentenced to death.
God is able to bring victory out of apparent defeat, but we have to cooperate. The way we cooperate is to be mindful, to try to be aware of what is going on in our lives and of those around us. To realize that wealth or a certain relationship or all those things being pushed on Black Friday do not bring happiness. One does not have to lose all of one’s retirement like Kim Rosen or be at the point of death like Dismas the Good Thief to have this attitude of gratitude. We can develop it now.
Are the kind of situations of which I speak very rare? I think not. I challenge you to go out of here today and think about times in your own lives when you lost what you cherished, what you thought was the only thing that would make you happy. Maybe it was someone you thought you would marry or did marry. Maybe it was a job or a business investment. Maybe it was getting into a certain college or buying a big new home or getting to stay in that home. Think about that loss and ask yourself “Am I better off or worse off spiritually as a result of that loss? The answer might surprise you and turn your life around.
Sermon given at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Advent 1, 11-27-11
It is the first Sunday of Advent and we have our new Advent wreath to announce it, as well as the color purple on the altar, on my back and on the pulpit. For these four weeks we prepare ourselves for the coming of Christ at Christmas. It is the time in the church year when we put ourselves in the mindset of the Old Testament, those long centuries when the Jewish people were being prepared for the coming of the Messiah. We hear an echo from that period in today’s reading from the Prophet Isaiah:
From ages past no one has heard, nor ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for him.
I think it appropriate that we return to Rite I in our prayer book for these four weeks, because, with its emphasis on the commandments and its use of old English it is reminiscent of the Old Testament period. Rite one was kept in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer because it very closely resembles the Holy Communion service from the 1928 prayer book. And it is the special request of those attending Adult Sunday School, where we have been studying the BCP, its history and its culture. As I recall, the request by that group to use Rite I for Advent was near unanimous.
Having said all that, I must admit to a reluctance to start Advent with this the first Sunday of the new church year. For goodness sake, it isn’t even Dec. yet. I’m still back with Thanksgiving, our great American holiday, or is it a holyday? Even the advertising feeding frenzy of black Friday hasn’t blotted Thanksgiving out. So, with your forbearance I’m going to preach about thankfulness; I don’t think it is the least bit incompatible with a penitential season like Advent.
Remember the Bernie Madoff Ponzi scheme? Mr. Madoff constructed this elaborate financial pyramid, all built on a lie. Many people, lured by the unbelievably high return on their money, invested with him and lost their life savings because they believed his lie. Bernie, who bilked people out of billions of dollars, is now doing about a million years in prison. One of those he cheated, Kim Rosen, was wiped out financially. In their book entitled “The Grateful Heart” Wilkie and Noreen Au tell Kim’s amazing story of gratitude for the tragedy. These are her words:
“When I lost my life savings I found myself opened to life’s simple wonders in a way I had never experienced before. It is not conditional, not based on having something, money or security or health, as opposed to not having it.”
In other word, she is saying, I used to think I would be happy if I had so much money put away, was totally secure and had perfect health. Now I realize my happiness was and is not dependent on those things. I have found happiness in life’s simple wonders. She developed an attitude of gratitude.
I think most of us think of gratitude in the context of being thankful for something concrete we have been given. The scriptures, in fact, sometimes encourage that view. When Jesus healed people many of them, but not all, expressed gratitude for the return to health. That was something concrete. Others, though, went further. They expressed gratitude for his acceptance of them, His gift of salvation to them. Often these were people who society was not likely to accept. There was Zacchaeus, the short little tax collector up in the tree. Jesus spotted him and told him he wanted to dine in his home that night. Zacchaeus was so excited he fell out of the tree and so grateful he said he would give half his possessions to the poor and anyone he had defrauded he would give it back to them four times over. Obviously, he hadn’t involved himself in a Ponzi scheme like Madoff or he wouldn’t have had the funds to do that.
Then there was the Samaritan woman at the well with the shady past. Jesus let her know He knew of the many men in her life, but accepted her by speaking to her and asking for a drink. She became so enthused by this gift of salvation that she announced to all who would listen that she had met the Messiah.
These are impressive stories but they don’t quite show the spiritual depth of Kim Rosen who appreciated what the loss of her investments did for her. The closest I can come from biblical stories is the good thief on the cross next to Jesus. He is the only one that Jesus said anything like what he heard: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” Why did he get that kind of response? Because he asked for forgiveness. I wonder if he had time to appreciate that this situation would not have occurred if he had not been sentenced to death.
God is able to bring victory out of apparent defeat, but we have to cooperate. The way we cooperate is to be mindful, to try to be aware of what is going on in our lives and of those around us. To realize that wealth or a certain relationship or all those things being pushed on Black Friday do not bring happiness. One does not have to lose all of one’s retirement like Kim Rosen or be at the point of death like Dismas the Good Thief to have this attitude of gratitude. We can develop it now.
Are the kind of situations of which I speak very rare? I think not. I challenge you to go out of here today and think about times in your own lives when you lost what you cherished, what you thought was the only thing that would make you happy. Maybe it was someone you thought you would marry or did marry. Maybe it was a job or a business investment. Maybe it was getting into a certain college or buying a big new home or getting to stay in that home. Think about that loss and ask yourself “Am I better off or worse off spiritually as a result of that loss? The answer might surprise you and turn your life around.
A Thanksgiving Message
I write this before Thanksgiving; you will read it after Thanksgiving. When you read it we will already be in Advent with our new Advent Wreath glowing beside the altar as we prepare with renewed hope for the coming of Christ at Christmas. We will also be bringing our Stewardship campaign to what we hope is a successful completion.
For these reasons and many more I wish to linger on the subject of thanksgiving. When we were growing up our parents taught us to say thanks when someone gave us something or did something for us. In turn, we have taught our own children and maybe grandchildren to do the same. Jesus was referring to this when he healed the twelve lepers and only one returned to thank Him. “Where are the other eleven?” He said. (Luke 17: 11-19)
There is a deeper and broader gratitude than simply saying thanks for individual acts of kindness, however. It is a pervasive and spiritual appreciation of the world around, of one’s own existence, of loved ones and of fellow human beings. A good word for it is “gratefulness.” A way of life. A way of relating to God. Meister Eckhart, the German mystic, has commented “If the only prayer you say is thank you, that would be enough.
Bella Brown has said it this way: “All our senses are given to us to enjoy and to praise God. The smell of the sea, the blossom borne on the wind, the soft touch of a little baby, the taste of ripe plum or bread fresh from the oven, the feel of warm cat’s fur or the body of a lover—these are all forms of thanksgiving prayer.
This gratefulness may extend not only to successes and joys but to failures, challenges and trauma. I was grateful to see my barber last week. He is suffering from a chronic and life-threatening condition. Before he near scalped me, I asked him how he was and he said, “I am vertical and for this I am grateful.” Then I realized he had greater reason to be grateful than even I and my reasons are legion.
Give thanks to him, bless his name,
For the Lord is good.
His steadfast love endures forever
And his faithfulness to all generations. Psalm 100 100 John+
For these reasons and many more I wish to linger on the subject of thanksgiving. When we were growing up our parents taught us to say thanks when someone gave us something or did something for us. In turn, we have taught our own children and maybe grandchildren to do the same. Jesus was referring to this when he healed the twelve lepers and only one returned to thank Him. “Where are the other eleven?” He said. (Luke 17: 11-19)
There is a deeper and broader gratitude than simply saying thanks for individual acts of kindness, however. It is a pervasive and spiritual appreciation of the world around, of one’s own existence, of loved ones and of fellow human beings. A good word for it is “gratefulness.” A way of life. A way of relating to God. Meister Eckhart, the German mystic, has commented “If the only prayer you say is thank you, that would be enough.
Bella Brown has said it this way: “All our senses are given to us to enjoy and to praise God. The smell of the sea, the blossom borne on the wind, the soft touch of a little baby, the taste of ripe plum or bread fresh from the oven, the feel of warm cat’s fur or the body of a lover—these are all forms of thanksgiving prayer.
This gratefulness may extend not only to successes and joys but to failures, challenges and trauma. I was grateful to see my barber last week. He is suffering from a chronic and life-threatening condition. Before he near scalped me, I asked him how he was and he said, “I am vertical and for this I am grateful.” Then I realized he had greater reason to be grateful than even I and my reasons are legion.
Give thanks to him, bless his name,
For the Lord is good.
His steadfast love endures forever
And his faithfulness to all generations. Psalm 100 100 John+
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Who's Up First?
Sermon: Joshua 3:7-17, Matthew 23:1-12
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Oct. 30, 2011
When I was a kid growing up in small town America in the 40’s we used to have pickup baseball games in the big yard across the street from my house. It was a big deal as to who got to bat first and we would compete to see who got to. We didn’t realize at the time that it was more prestigious to bat third or even fourth, the cleanup spot. Those are the positions the Miguel Cabreras and the Albert Pujols of the world bat. Actually, I don’t think it was so much about the prestige of being first as it was the idea that if you batted first in the lineup you would get to bat more often. Little boys are competitive, big boys are competitive and many girls are competitive, as well. That’s not necessarily bad, but it’s just that sometimes the competitiveness is self-defeating, especially when you are actually competing against the members of your own team to see who is best in a sport that is a team sport, like baseball. Sometimes we can forget that we need the other members of the team in order to win.
Much is made of how many games a pitcher wins in one season, like Justin Verlander this season, who won 24, but Justin wouldn’t have won a single game if his team didn’t get at least one run for him. Well, they say for that reason maybe the ERA, the earned run average, is a better evaluation of a pitcher’s performance. Yes, but the ERA depends partly on how well the other members of your team play on defense behind you.
This meandering does relate to today’s Gospel, in case you’re wondering. Jesus is once again castigating the Pharisees for their arrogance. Now the Pharisees were not bad people. They were law-abiding to the point of ridiculousness. They had performed and were performing an important role for the Jewish nation. Their emphasis on the law of Moses provided the people with a clear and proud identity in opposition to the other nations around them, especially their Roman conquerors. But… they tended to take themselves too seriously, believing their press clippings,as it were, and looking down on the other members of society who were perhaps not so well educated in the law or so law-abiding. They didn’t see themselves as team players, who needed the other people. That’s why Jesus keeps stressing, as he does in today’s Gospel, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
I believe the true team players are the ones who step up and do what they are called to do without having to bask in the glory or live to see the results of their efforts. Moses was one such. Today’s reading from the Book of Joshua is a continuation of last Sunday’s reading from the Book of Deuteronomy. Last Sunday God takes Moses to a high mountain; He does that a lot. He shows him the Promised Land that had been the goal of the 40 years’ journey in the desert. Because Moses had doubted God at one point he was not to be allowed to enter the Promised Land, but he sees it all. Then he dies, having fulfilled the work he was called to do. It is Joshua his lieutenant who will get the glory. In today’s reading they cross the Jordan into Canaan. Soon Joshua will fit the battle of Jericho and the walls come tumbling down. Joshua takes them home.
Isn’t it interesting that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, the great leader, for a time, of the American Civil Rights Movement, used the Moses imagery in his final speech. On April 3, 1968, in Memphis Tenn. He spoke the following words:
“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountain top and I don’t mind. Like anybody I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you but I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”
He was assassinated the next day and the gauntlet was passed to others. Many other people were involved, had given and would give their lives. He stepped forward at a time when he was needed and rather reluctantly, just as Moses had asked out when God called him. In both cases the movements went on to achieve their goals, at least partially. Dr. King did not get to see the passage of the Civil Rights and Voting acts, just as Moses did not see the building of the Temple in Jerusalem. They stepped up, did their part, and moved on, as team players do. Oh, there are monuments to them. Michelangelo chiseled a famous statue of Moses which you can see in a church in Rome. And a new monument has been erected in Washington D.C. to Dr. King. But the real monuments are the cause of freedom and equality which they championed, the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth.
The question for us: are we ready and willing to step up and do our part to forward the Kingdom? Are we team players, not needing to bat first and get the glory, knowing that HE accomplishes so much more if WE work together.
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Oct. 30, 2011
When I was a kid growing up in small town America in the 40’s we used to have pickup baseball games in the big yard across the street from my house. It was a big deal as to who got to bat first and we would compete to see who got to. We didn’t realize at the time that it was more prestigious to bat third or even fourth, the cleanup spot. Those are the positions the Miguel Cabreras and the Albert Pujols of the world bat. Actually, I don’t think it was so much about the prestige of being first as it was the idea that if you batted first in the lineup you would get to bat more often. Little boys are competitive, big boys are competitive and many girls are competitive, as well. That’s not necessarily bad, but it’s just that sometimes the competitiveness is self-defeating, especially when you are actually competing against the members of your own team to see who is best in a sport that is a team sport, like baseball. Sometimes we can forget that we need the other members of the team in order to win.
Much is made of how many games a pitcher wins in one season, like Justin Verlander this season, who won 24, but Justin wouldn’t have won a single game if his team didn’t get at least one run for him. Well, they say for that reason maybe the ERA, the earned run average, is a better evaluation of a pitcher’s performance. Yes, but the ERA depends partly on how well the other members of your team play on defense behind you.
This meandering does relate to today’s Gospel, in case you’re wondering. Jesus is once again castigating the Pharisees for their arrogance. Now the Pharisees were not bad people. They were law-abiding to the point of ridiculousness. They had performed and were performing an important role for the Jewish nation. Their emphasis on the law of Moses provided the people with a clear and proud identity in opposition to the other nations around them, especially their Roman conquerors. But… they tended to take themselves too seriously, believing their press clippings,as it were, and looking down on the other members of society who were perhaps not so well educated in the law or so law-abiding. They didn’t see themselves as team players, who needed the other people. That’s why Jesus keeps stressing, as he does in today’s Gospel, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
I believe the true team players are the ones who step up and do what they are called to do without having to bask in the glory or live to see the results of their efforts. Moses was one such. Today’s reading from the Book of Joshua is a continuation of last Sunday’s reading from the Book of Deuteronomy. Last Sunday God takes Moses to a high mountain; He does that a lot. He shows him the Promised Land that had been the goal of the 40 years’ journey in the desert. Because Moses had doubted God at one point he was not to be allowed to enter the Promised Land, but he sees it all. Then he dies, having fulfilled the work he was called to do. It is Joshua his lieutenant who will get the glory. In today’s reading they cross the Jordan into Canaan. Soon Joshua will fit the battle of Jericho and the walls come tumbling down. Joshua takes them home.
Isn’t it interesting that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, the great leader, for a time, of the American Civil Rights Movement, used the Moses imagery in his final speech. On April 3, 1968, in Memphis Tenn. He spoke the following words:
“Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountain top and I don’t mind. Like anybody I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you but I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”
He was assassinated the next day and the gauntlet was passed to others. Many other people were involved, had given and would give their lives. He stepped forward at a time when he was needed and rather reluctantly, just as Moses had asked out when God called him. In both cases the movements went on to achieve their goals, at least partially. Dr. King did not get to see the passage of the Civil Rights and Voting acts, just as Moses did not see the building of the Temple in Jerusalem. They stepped up, did their part, and moved on, as team players do. Oh, there are monuments to them. Michelangelo chiseled a famous statue of Moses which you can see in a church in Rome. And a new monument has been erected in Washington D.C. to Dr. King. But the real monuments are the cause of freedom and equality which they championed, the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth.
The question for us: are we ready and willing to step up and do our part to forward the Kingdom? Are we team players, not needing to bat first and get the glory, knowing that HE accomplishes so much more if WE work together.
Friday, October 21, 2011
The Many Faces of Love
Sermon: Matthew 22:34-46
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Oct. 23, 2011
In the Gospel reading Jesus is asked which is the greatest commandment in the law. We should thank that Pharisees for asking the question because it provided the stage for this great teaching. I believe it is Jesus’s greatest teaching, encapsulating everything else He taught and lived. He answered “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment.” He is quick to add “and the second is like it. Love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
Okay, let’s go through this passage with a fine tooth comb. I used to think this was a brand new teaching by Jesus, but it is not. These two commandments are found in the Hebrew Scriptures, which we Christians call the Old Testament. The first, love of God, is found in Deuteronomy and the second, love of neighbor, is found in Leviticus. The wording in Deuteronomy is slightly different. It says Love God with “all your might.” In Matthew it reads “with all your mind.” I personally like “might” over “mind.” It implies that we love God with all our resources: money, power and energy. Whereas “mind” kind of implies just thinking love.
So, if these commandments are not new, what’s the big deal?
There are several big deals, really big deals. One big deal is that Jesus tied the two separate commandments together, coming as they did from separate books. He taught that you show your love of God by how you love your neighbor. In another place He asked “how can someone say they love God, whom they do not see and hate their neighbor, whom they see every day?”
Another big deal is the answer to the question “who is my neighbor?” The Old Testament meaning is that neighbor is my own people. Those writers of the Torah, the first five books, were talking about love of fellow Hebrews. Yes, we take for granted that parents, if they are at all normal, will love their children and the other members of their own family. The God that Moses represented was trying to get them to love their fellow Hebrews, those outside their own family, but still members of their own tribe. The aspect of God presented in the Old Testament is a god championing the Hebrews and helping them prevail against their enemies. The big deal about Jesus’ teaching is that He broadened the interpretation of neighbor, actually universalized it. When asked by a seeker “Who is my neighbor?” He told the parable of the Good Samaritan. Samaritans were the hated and avoided-at-all cost neighbors of the Jews, considered half-breeds and apostates from the true religion. So if Samaritans are my neighbor then everybody is. That’s the big deal; everybody is, no matter what their color, what language they speak, what religion they practice, or their sexual orientation. Everybody is. Sure, the people next door with whom we have so much in common that we even share child-rearing, those are our easy-to-love neighbors. But the people on the other side of the house, where we have the high fence, the ones who are so different? We hardly know them at all, but we know for sure we don’t approve of their life-style. They’re our neighbors, too, and we are commanded to love them. This is not just a suggestion; it is a commandment. That commandment is not just about the people next door, of course; it is about the whole world.
Now let’s look at that second commandment again. It say “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” Which means we are commanded to love
ourselves. One way to look at that is that we first have to love ourselves before we are able to love anyone else. Another way to look at it is that by loving others we are able to arrive at a deeper love of ourselves.
A woman at the healing service this past Wednesday asked if it was wrong to pray for oneself. Holy Cow! I think that many Christians, myself included, have felt they are being selfish by looking out for their own needs. That can’t be true, unless we are the only ones we look out for. The commandment is we are to love both ourselves and others. That means we have to care for ourselves; otherwise we are no good for anybody else. One of the ways we care for ourselves is by caring for others. At least some of them will care back, will love back. Unless we love ourselves, we will not have the strength to practice tough love, that kind of love which motivates us to draw lines in the sand and to say no when it is clearly in our own best interest and that of the loved one in question to not do what they demand.
And finally, the love that Christ commands does not mean necessarily liking the neighbor, although sometimes when we do for or care for another or maybe just pray for them they somehow become more likable.
During the American League Baseball Playoffs, those who were following the Tigers on TV with great hope undoubtedly noticed this commercial. I know I did. In a light sort of way it exemplifies what I have been trying to say. There are a series of little scenes: oh, a guy has a good deed done for him; then at the market he steps back and let’s a young mother with a shopping cart full of groceries and a child in tow go ahead of him; then that young woman is later out in her yard raking leaves when she sees her older neighbor struggling with her leaves and goes over and helps her; this is witnessed by a man who goes to his office and cleans up a mess on the floor of the coffee room; this is witnessed by the secretary who would usually have to do that and she goes out and does a good deed for someone else. That chain reaction would change the world.
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Oct. 23, 2011
In the Gospel reading Jesus is asked which is the greatest commandment in the law. We should thank that Pharisees for asking the question because it provided the stage for this great teaching. I believe it is Jesus’s greatest teaching, encapsulating everything else He taught and lived. He answered “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment.” He is quick to add “and the second is like it. Love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
Okay, let’s go through this passage with a fine tooth comb. I used to think this was a brand new teaching by Jesus, but it is not. These two commandments are found in the Hebrew Scriptures, which we Christians call the Old Testament. The first, love of God, is found in Deuteronomy and the second, love of neighbor, is found in Leviticus. The wording in Deuteronomy is slightly different. It says Love God with “all your might.” In Matthew it reads “with all your mind.” I personally like “might” over “mind.” It implies that we love God with all our resources: money, power and energy. Whereas “mind” kind of implies just thinking love.
So, if these commandments are not new, what’s the big deal?
There are several big deals, really big deals. One big deal is that Jesus tied the two separate commandments together, coming as they did from separate books. He taught that you show your love of God by how you love your neighbor. In another place He asked “how can someone say they love God, whom they do not see and hate their neighbor, whom they see every day?”
Another big deal is the answer to the question “who is my neighbor?” The Old Testament meaning is that neighbor is my own people. Those writers of the Torah, the first five books, were talking about love of fellow Hebrews. Yes, we take for granted that parents, if they are at all normal, will love their children and the other members of their own family. The God that Moses represented was trying to get them to love their fellow Hebrews, those outside their own family, but still members of their own tribe. The aspect of God presented in the Old Testament is a god championing the Hebrews and helping them prevail against their enemies. The big deal about Jesus’ teaching is that He broadened the interpretation of neighbor, actually universalized it. When asked by a seeker “Who is my neighbor?” He told the parable of the Good Samaritan. Samaritans were the hated and avoided-at-all cost neighbors of the Jews, considered half-breeds and apostates from the true religion. So if Samaritans are my neighbor then everybody is. That’s the big deal; everybody is, no matter what their color, what language they speak, what religion they practice, or their sexual orientation. Everybody is. Sure, the people next door with whom we have so much in common that we even share child-rearing, those are our easy-to-love neighbors. But the people on the other side of the house, where we have the high fence, the ones who are so different? We hardly know them at all, but we know for sure we don’t approve of their life-style. They’re our neighbors, too, and we are commanded to love them. This is not just a suggestion; it is a commandment. That commandment is not just about the people next door, of course; it is about the whole world.
Now let’s look at that second commandment again. It say “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” Which means we are commanded to love
ourselves. One way to look at that is that we first have to love ourselves before we are able to love anyone else. Another way to look at it is that by loving others we are able to arrive at a deeper love of ourselves.
A woman at the healing service this past Wednesday asked if it was wrong to pray for oneself. Holy Cow! I think that many Christians, myself included, have felt they are being selfish by looking out for their own needs. That can’t be true, unless we are the only ones we look out for. The commandment is we are to love both ourselves and others. That means we have to care for ourselves; otherwise we are no good for anybody else. One of the ways we care for ourselves is by caring for others. At least some of them will care back, will love back. Unless we love ourselves, we will not have the strength to practice tough love, that kind of love which motivates us to draw lines in the sand and to say no when it is clearly in our own best interest and that of the loved one in question to not do what they demand.
And finally, the love that Christ commands does not mean necessarily liking the neighbor, although sometimes when we do for or care for another or maybe just pray for them they somehow become more likable.
During the American League Baseball Playoffs, those who were following the Tigers on TV with great hope undoubtedly noticed this commercial. I know I did. In a light sort of way it exemplifies what I have been trying to say. There are a series of little scenes: oh, a guy has a good deed done for him; then at the market he steps back and let’s a young mother with a shopping cart full of groceries and a child in tow go ahead of him; then that young woman is later out in her yard raking leaves when she sees her older neighbor struggling with her leaves and goes over and helps her; this is witnessed by a man who goes to his office and cleans up a mess on the floor of the coffee room; this is witnessed by the secretary who would usually have to do that and she goes out and does a good deed for someone else. That chain reaction would change the world.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Locating the Big Guy
Sermon: Exodus 33:12-23
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Oct. 16, 2011
This Old Testament episode involving God and Moses may seem a little odd to us from our vantage of perhaps 3000 years later. I don’t think the issue is much different, though, from what many of us face today. That issue is locating God.
Moses on Mt. Sinai is just trying to get a look at God. He’s been doing his bidding for quite a while. It’s not been easy to be the go between God and this unruly bunch of malcontents. God keeps telling him he knows him by name and all that good stuff. Moses says in effect, that’s all very fine, but you never let me see you. You talk to me out of burning bushes, behind boulders and down from the clouds, but what do you look like? God says, okay, you can see me but I have to protect you from the full frontal effect. My full brightness would melt your retinas, even kill you. So, God shows Him only his backside. Pretty illusive, I would say.
For many people down through the ages God has seemed very illusive, even absent. Where are you, God, when I need you?
I want to read you an account of this very experience. It was sent to me by my cousin Dan.
Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy. “Some twelve years ago I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session. That was the day I first saw Tommy. He was combing his long flaxen hair which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts, but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under S, S for strange…very strange. Tommy turned out to be the ‘atheist in residence’ in my course. He constantly objected to, smirked at or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew. When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam he asked in a cynical tone, Do you think I’ll ever find God? I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. No, I said emphatically. Why not? I thought that was the product you were pushing. I let him get five steps from the classroom door. Then I called out, Tommy! I don’t think you will find Him, but I’m absolutely certain He will find you. He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.
Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out he came to see me. When he walked into my office his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy, but his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe. Tommy, I thought about you so often. I heard you were sick, I blurted out. Oh, yes very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks. Can you talk about it, Tom? I asked. Sure, what would you like to know? What’s it like to be only 24 and dying? Well, it could be worse, he said, like being 50 and having no values or ideals, like being 50 and thinking that booze, seducing women and making money are the real biggies in life. I began to look in my mental file under S, where I had filed Tommy as strange. It seems everybody I try to reject by classification God sends back into my life to educate me. What I really came to see you about, Tom said, is something you said to me on the last day of class. I asked if you thought I would ever find God. You said no, which surprised me, but you said He will find you. I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me it was malignant that’s when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying and then you quit. Well one day I woke up and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may or may not be, I just quit. I decided I just didn’t really care about God, about an afterlife or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and thought about something else you had said. ‘The essential sadness is to go through life without loving.’ But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without telling those you loved that you had loved them. So I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. Dad? Yes, what, he said without lowering the newspaper. Dad, I would like to talk to you. Well, talk. I mean it’s really important. The newspaper came down three slow inches. What is it? Dad I love you. I just wanted you to know that. Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. The newspaper fluttered to the floor and then he did two things I never remember him doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears. To feel him hug me and to hear him say he loved me. It was easier with my mother and little brother. We cried, too, and we hugged each other and started saying real nice things, things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I’m only sorry about one thing, that I waited so long. Here I was opening up to all the people I had actually been close to.
Then one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop. C’mon. Jump through. C’mon. I’ll give you three days, three weeks. Apparently God does things in His own way, at His own hour. But the important thing was that He was there. You were right. He found me after I stopped looking for Him.
Tommy, I practically gasped. I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know the Apostle John said that. He said that God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living in God and God is living in Him.
Tom, could I ask you a favor. You know when I had you in class you were a real pain but you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you’ve just told me. If I told them the same thing, it wouldn’t be half as effective as if you were to tell it. Ooh I’m ready for you, but I don’t know if I am ready for your class. In a few days Tom called, though, and said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So, we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment far more important. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever imagined. Before he died we talked one last time. I’m not going to make it to your class. Would you tell them for me, tell the whole world for me.
Where is God located? Maybe not on the mountain. Maybe not in the crisis when we think He should rescue us. Maybe not even in church. He resides in the hearts of those who love, and have the courage to say it and act on it.
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Oct. 16, 2011
This Old Testament episode involving God and Moses may seem a little odd to us from our vantage of perhaps 3000 years later. I don’t think the issue is much different, though, from what many of us face today. That issue is locating God.
Moses on Mt. Sinai is just trying to get a look at God. He’s been doing his bidding for quite a while. It’s not been easy to be the go between God and this unruly bunch of malcontents. God keeps telling him he knows him by name and all that good stuff. Moses says in effect, that’s all very fine, but you never let me see you. You talk to me out of burning bushes, behind boulders and down from the clouds, but what do you look like? God says, okay, you can see me but I have to protect you from the full frontal effect. My full brightness would melt your retinas, even kill you. So, God shows Him only his backside. Pretty illusive, I would say.
For many people down through the ages God has seemed very illusive, even absent. Where are you, God, when I need you?
I want to read you an account of this very experience. It was sent to me by my cousin Dan.
Father John Powell, a professor at Loyola University in Chicago writes about a student in his Theology of Faith class named Tommy. “Some twelve years ago I stood watching my university students file into the classroom for our first session. That was the day I first saw Tommy. He was combing his long flaxen hair which hung six inches below his shoulders. It was the first time I had ever seen a boy with hair that long. I guess it was just coming into fashion then. I know in my mind it isn’t what’s on your head but what’s in it that counts, but on that day I was unprepared and my emotions flipped. I immediately filed Tommy under S, S for strange…very strange. Tommy turned out to be the ‘atheist in residence’ in my course. He constantly objected to, smirked at or whined about the possibility of an unconditionally loving Father/God. We lived with each other in relative peace for one semester, although I admit he was for me at times a serious pain in the back pew. When he came up at the end of the course to turn in his final exam he asked in a cynical tone, Do you think I’ll ever find God? I decided instantly on a little shock therapy. No, I said emphatically. Why not? I thought that was the product you were pushing. I let him get five steps from the classroom door. Then I called out, Tommy! I don’t think you will find Him, but I’m absolutely certain He will find you. He shrugged a little and left my class and my life.
Then a sad report came. I heard that Tommy had terminal cancer. Before I could search him out he came to see me. When he walked into my office his body was very badly wasted and the long hair had all fallen out as a result of chemotherapy, but his eyes were bright and his voice was firm, for the first time, I believe. Tommy, I thought about you so often. I heard you were sick, I blurted out. Oh, yes very sick. I have cancer in both lungs. It’s a matter of weeks. Can you talk about it, Tom? I asked. Sure, what would you like to know? What’s it like to be only 24 and dying? Well, it could be worse, he said, like being 50 and having no values or ideals, like being 50 and thinking that booze, seducing women and making money are the real biggies in life. I began to look in my mental file under S, where I had filed Tommy as strange. It seems everybody I try to reject by classification God sends back into my life to educate me. What I really came to see you about, Tom said, is something you said to me on the last day of class. I asked if you thought I would ever find God. You said no, which surprised me, but you said He will find you. I thought about that a lot, even though my search for God was hardly intense at that time. But when the doctors removed a lump from my groin and told me it was malignant that’s when I got serious about locating God. And when the malignancy spread into my vital organs I really began banging bloody fists against the bronze doors of heaven. But God did not come out. In fact, nothing happened. Did you ever try anything for a long time with no success? You get psychologically glutted, fed up with trying and then you quit. Well one day I woke up and instead of throwing a few more futile appeals over that high brick wall to a God who may or may not be, I just quit. I decided I just didn’t really care about God, about an afterlife or anything like that. I decided to spend what time I had left doing something more profitable. I thought about you and your class and thought about something else you had said. ‘The essential sadness is to go through life without loving.’ But it would be almost equally sad to go through life and leave this world without telling those you loved that you had loved them. So I began with the hardest one, my Dad. He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. Dad? Yes, what, he said without lowering the newspaper. Dad, I would like to talk to you. Well, talk. I mean it’s really important. The newspaper came down three slow inches. What is it? Dad I love you. I just wanted you to know that. Tom smiled at me and said it with obvious satisfaction as though he felt a warm and secret joy flowing inside of him. The newspaper fluttered to the floor and then he did two things I never remember him doing before. He cried and he hugged me. We talked all night even though he had to go to work the next morning. It felt so good to be close to my father, to see his tears. To feel him hug me and to hear him say he loved me. It was easier with my mother and little brother. We cried, too, and we hugged each other and started saying real nice things, things we had been keeping secret for so many years. I’m only sorry about one thing, that I waited so long. Here I was opening up to all the people I had actually been close to.
Then one day I turned around and God was there. He didn’t come to me when I pleaded with him. I guess I was like an animal trainer holding out a hoop. C’mon. Jump through. C’mon. I’ll give you three days, three weeks. Apparently God does things in His own way, at His own hour. But the important thing was that He was there. You were right. He found me after I stopped looking for Him.
Tommy, I practically gasped. I think you are saying something very important and much more universal than you realize. To me you are saying that the surest way to find God is not to make Him a private possession, a problem solver or an instant consolation in time of need, but rather by opening to love. You know the Apostle John said that. He said that God is love, and anyone who lives in love is living in God and God is living in Him.
Tom, could I ask you a favor. You know when I had you in class you were a real pain but you can make it all up to me now. Would you come into my present Theology of Faith course and tell them what you’ve just told me. If I told them the same thing, it wouldn’t be half as effective as if you were to tell it. Ooh I’m ready for you, but I don’t know if I am ready for your class. In a few days Tom called, though, and said he was ready for the class, that he wanted to do that for God and for me. So, we scheduled a date. However, he never made it. He had another appointment far more important. Of course, his life was not really ended by his death, only changed. He made the great step from faith into vision. He found a life far more beautiful than the eye of man has ever seen or the ear of man has ever imagined. Before he died we talked one last time. I’m not going to make it to your class. Would you tell them for me, tell the whole world for me.
Where is God located? Maybe not on the mountain. Maybe not in the crisis when we think He should rescue us. Maybe not even in church. He resides in the hearts of those who love, and have the courage to say it and act on it.
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